Something Missing
by JDPhoenix
Summary: After Bryce leaves Chuck drugged he needs a few things, food being high on the list, and what secret agent doesn't love a good sandwich?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I in any way associated with, Chuck.

AN: I fully intend for this to continue into a series of some sort but I promise nothing.

Timeframe: Chuck vs. the Nemesis

**Something Missing**

Bryce Larkin did not want for much in life. He had long ago given up his need for the material comforts that most people took for granted and he was okay with that. He didn't need to know where he would be sleeping next and when he did sleep his dreams were most certainly not filled with quaint, two-story houses with white picket fences. He didn't need the great piles of stuff that filled the emptiness in so many people's lives. He didn't need a plasma TV or an ipod or a computer or a personal wardrobe. This last was particularly important considering that he'd just stolen a sweat suit from a homeless shelter.

As he zipped up the jacket he fingered the spot in his chest where Casey had put a bullet. He'd seen the scar when he pulled off the hospital gown but he didn't care to look at it for long. He could still feel the bullet slicing easily through his skin and barreling through his chest cavity, his organs. He shuddered. He knew it made no sense. Teachers and doctors alike had told him that his organs didn't actually feel, and he'd been shot before so he knew they were right. But something about this time, this shot, had left him ... not broken but lessened somehow.

A rumble from his stomach reminded him that he still needed to eat, miraculous resurrection or no. He should have eaten at the shelter, but at the time he was still trying to shake whatever agency it was that wanted him dead at the moment. He sighed, looking up and down the street. It was Thanksgiving so most smaller restaurants would probably be closed. He should be able to break in and make himself a sandwich without being caught. The sign for a sub shop caught his eye; he hadn't had one of those since before his last trip to Afghanistan. And anyway, he thought as he jogged down the sidewalk, they were sure to have turkey.

Another rumble from his stomach was all the push he needed to bypass finesse and take a rock to the glass doorway. He put his hand carefully through the hole and unlocked the door. A quick look around the small restaurant revealed no alarm system which, frankly, was disappointing. He stepped inside and headed straight for the counter. A moment later he realized that the food was probably in the freezer for the holiday. Feeling rather foolish for his mistake he turned to the heavy walk-in door and was surprised to see it opening. He grabbed for a knife off the cutting board and held it just behind his leg as the intruder came into view.

A petite brunette woman stopped dead upon seeing him. Her arms were full of bread and meats and cheeses and the look in her wide, red-rimmed eyes could be nothing if not fear.

"Hi," Bryce said.

"Wh- who are you?" she stuttered, stepping back into the doorway of the freezer.

"I- I was just hungry," he said, discreetly sliding the small knife in his hand up his sleeve.

She took in his clothing and rumpled appearance. He was sure he looked close enough to homeless to pass and sincerely hoped she bought it.

"Everyone should have a good dinner on Thanksgiving," she said with a small smile and glided easily past him to deposit her load on the counter. "Sit down. It'll be ready in a few minutes."

Bryce stood behind her for a moment, watching dumbly as her delicate hands sorted the various food stuffs into separate piles.

"Sit," she commanded with enough sharpness that he couldn't help but follow the order. He took a seat away from the windows, where he had a clear view of the door and her. She didn't look up at him while she worked but that was fine with him, he was accustomed to watching people without their mind. She was actually very pretty, though he'd always preferred blondes, and when she worked she smiled in a way that made it clear she didn't know she did it, which made her that much more beautiful. Her eyes had him worried though. She'd obviously been crying and why was she alone on Thanksgiving? Surely someone would want someone as sweet as her around.

"Dinner's served," she said brightly, cutting into his thoughts as she brought two footlongs wrapped in butcher paper to the table. She took the seat across from him with a smile.

"What is it?" he asked, belatedly wondering if she was an agent sent to bring him in.

She gasped at him as if affronted. "Do you ask Michelangelo who's on that ceiling? No! You crane your neck and _look_." She punctuated her statement by pointing angrily at his sandwich.

He raised an eyebrow and unwrapped it carefully. It took him a moment to balance the thing properly between his ten fingers. He cast her one more wary glance over the monstrosity as he raised it to his mouth and her eager expression was enough to win him over. He took a bite.

"**Mmmm**!" he moaned.

"You like it?" she asked eagerly.

"Mm-_mmm_!" He closed his eyes happily. He hadn't eaten anything this good in … years. And he told her so between bites.

"Oh, that's terrible."

His eyes flashed open and at her sympathetic expression he remembered she thought he was homeless. "No," he said quickly, not caring that his mouth was full, "even before. This is the best."

She smiled, clearly not convinced, and began eating her own sandwich.

"So," he said when he'd slowed down enough to savor the taste of his food, "what are you doing here today?"

She shrugged. "My parents live on the other side of the country and I didn't really want to impose on my friends."

"Cooking like this is not imposing," he said.

She laughed and ducked her head before looking up at him sadly. "I just broke up with this guy. He was really sweet but …" She took a shuddering breath. "He was a jerk too."

"Sounds complicated."

"It was. His ex was always around and I don't suppose it helped that I have a business relationship with mine but --" She saw his widening eyes and frowned. "He smuggles meat into the country for me, okay? It's not like we were sleeping together."

Bryce raised his now empty hands defensively. "I didn't say anything. I'm just suddenly really glad I'm not involved in a love triangle."

"You should be." She nodded to the crumbs and crumpled butcher paper before him. "Want dessert? I have a quart of Cherry Garcia in the freezer."

"As tempting as that is," he said, pushing back his chair and standing up, "I can't." Now that his stomach was full his mind was working properly and he realized just how stupid he was to have come here. Agents could storm through the door any second and Chuck was out there, completely oblivious to the _real_ danger he was in. "I have to go," he said, heading for the door. He stopped at the broken glass on the floor and looked apologetically over his shoulder.

"It's okay," she said, waving it off. "Do you have a place to stay tonight?"

"I'll find something."

"Wait!" she said as he opened the door. He saw her jump up and run to the cash register as it opened he couldn't help but feel the slightest bit guilty. He quickly rushed out. He really did have to find Chuck. Though, he smiled as the jogged towards the nearby residential district, that was the best Thanksgiving dinner he'd had in a long time.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: This was originally two chapters but angellwings convinced me to make it one because she wanted more. And since she's 1/3 of the reviewers so far, she has a lot of power. If you want power, review!

Timeframe: Set during Chuck vs. the Nemesis

**Something Missing**

Lou had felt sorry for the poor guy. Bad enough to be homeless and so desperate for food that he'd break into a restaurant, but to be alone on Thanksgiving? That thought, of course, reminded her that if it weren't for the would-be burglar _she_ would have been alone on Thanksgiving. She determinedly pushed that thought away and rested her chin in her palm.

"How's it comin' there, Sammy?" she asked. She was sitting the table farthest from the one he had chosen, watching Sammy the Glass Man fix her door.

"Just fine, Lou," Sammy laughed. "How's my sandwich coming?"

She held up the paper-wrapped morsel. "It's just waiting on you."

Sammy ran his hands over the window, making sure it was secure, then turned to her with a shrug. "All done."

Lou stood with a half-hearted smile and handed him the sandwich. "How much do I owe you?" she asked, going around the counter to grab her purse and checkbook.

Sammy frowned. "How about free sandwiches until New Year's?"

Lou laughed. "You don't come in nearly often enough to make that worth it. How much?"

"Free sandwiches until New Year's," he repeated.

She frowned at him. "You came out here first thing in the morning the day after Thanksgiving. You're getting paid."

"You were robbed on Thanksgiving! I'm showing some neighborly courtesy."

"I wasn't robbed. He didn't take anything."

"You really need an alarm system."

"I know," she sighed like a child who's tired of hearing the same lesson. "Are you going to let me pay you or not?"

"No," Sammy said and walked out the newly repaired door.

Lou glared at the tinkling bell and shouldered her purse. Now that the work was done there was nothing keeping her from going home to her oh-so-empty apartment. She was really mad at Chuck Bartowski. It wasn't because he'd hurt her because he was too nice to do something like that on purpose or even out of sheer idiocy like most guys. And that was why she was mad at him. How dare he be so sweet that it was impossible to be illogically hateful towards him! As she reached her car her traitorous eyes happened upon the Buy More and the half dozen emergency vehicles in the parking lot. Her legs, it seemed, were even more traitorous than her eyes as they sprinted to the electronics store, carrying her with them.

"What happened?" she gasped when she reached the first police officer.

"Gas leak," the man said before continuing his crowd control work.

Lou climbed up on the cement block under one of the parking lot lights. Nowhere in the whole mass of people did she see Chuck.

"Was anyone hurt?" she asked, leaping down.

The police officer sighed long-sufferingly. "No, no one was injured."

"Thank you," Lou said, feeling suddenly foolish. It was no longer her place to worry about Chuck. She turned to leave, deciding it was best to get out of there before anyone Chuck knew saw her. As she started for the restaurant she saw a man at the edge of the parking lot, far from the crowds and officers. He rushed away before she could get a good look but she convinced herself she was seeing things. How could the homeless guy be wearing a tux? She shook her head, deciding that she really needed a day away from work and away from men. Though, she smiled with a silent giggle, if it had been the homeless guy, he looked damn good.

* * *

Bryce left the Buy More, feeling more optimistic than he had in a long time. He'd annoyed Casey, made amends with Chuck, and soon he and Sarah would be hunting down Fulcrum agents together. He easily slipped out of the Buy More without being noticed and headed across the street where he'd been told his new car was parked. The sign for the sandwich shop caught his eye again and he thought longingly of the meal he'd eaten there yesterday. But habit was a dangerous thing for a spy to develop and he really did need to leave the area.

He was just about to resume his walk when he saw a familiar woman dashing across the street with complete disregard for traffic signals. She fairly leapt over the hedge rimming the parking lot and went straight for the nearest cop. She spoke with him for a moment before climbing on a lamppost and looking over the chaotic scene. She then jumped down and he laughed. She looked like an anxious child eager for information. But really, considering the scene, she was probably worried about a friend or a more-than-a-friend. The thought sobered him.

She turned away from the store a second later and his heart stopped as their eyes met. Oh, he was screwed. He turned on his heel and walked as casually as he could towards his car. There would be no more sandwiches today or ever, not after that moment of idiocy!

He was supposed to be homeless! What explanation could there possibly be for a homeless man in a tux? He kept walking, forcing himself not to look back. She would probably assume she was seeing things. Or maybe she didn't even remember his face. That thought was an unwelcome one. Despite his professional need for anonymity Bryce didn't like not being remembered, at least in this instance.

As he climbed into the driver's seat of the non-descript black sports car his traitorous stomach growled.

"No!" he snapped. "No more sandwiches for you!"

He avoided looking at the figure crossing the street as he pulled out of the parking lot and kept his eyes away from the rearview mirrors until he was well away from the shopping center. He had a mission and in a few hours he and Sarah would be heading out in search of rogue agents. That was all that mattered. His stomach would just have to go on without a meatball sub, no matter how much he wanted one.

* * *

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	3. Chapter 3

AN: This chapter's for angellwings, becuase she was scarred.

Timeframe: Set after Chuck vs. the Break up

**Something Missing**

Sarah loved Chuck. That was … not shocking but certainly unexpected. Bryce knew Chuck was a good guy, the best guy in fact. That's why he hadn't had to think twice about giving him the Intersect. Well, that was a lie. There was nothing in his life he felt worse about than getting Chuck kicked out of Stanford and he'd known that the guilt would be a hundred times worse if he undid that one truly good deed by giving Chuck all the secrets of the United States government. But in the end there was no contest. Bryce had never known anyone as good as Chuck, which meant he was the only one who could be trusted. But he'd never thought he needed to worry about leaving Sarah with Chuck.

He gave the car a little more gas and nearly gave the little old lady ahead of him a heart attack as he swerved around her. Now that he thought about it he knew it was a stupid mistake. Chuck was kind and caring. Stupid girls fell for Bryce, girls who only wanted one night or someone to complete their perfect image. Smart girls fell for Chuck, good girls who wanted something real and good and --

Bryce made a sharp left through traffic, sending at least two cars swerving wildly. He screeched through the parking lot, burning tracks into the asphalt as he slid into a parking space. He stared over the dashboard for several long minutes, not really seeing the curious shoppers who eyed the car warily. Finally, when he'd stopped cursing himself and his best friend, he actually looked around to see where his angry driving had brought him. A sigh escaped him when he saw the restaurant. Apparently his stomach had been doing the driving.

He exited the car, convincing himself that after nearly a year the woman wouldn't remember him. A pair of elderly ladies waddled up the sidewalk ahead of him and he hurried past them to hold the door open. Both nodded thankfully, one commenting that he was "such a nice boy." There was a couple eating at one of the tables and a man was behind the counter. Bryce sighed, thankful for small favors. As the women ordered he took a number and began debating all the possible bread-meat-cheese combinations. Condiments and veggies were a whole other dimension that he didn't have time to consider, no matter the eternity it was taking the ladies to order.

The bell above the door rang out and Bryce stepped quickly aside to let the new customer take a number.

"You," she gasped and Bryce felt his mouth go dry. Of course she would be here. Of course she would remember him. After being dumped for his best friend who he'd screwed over yet again … his karma really was that bad.

"Hi," he said, drawing the word out in an attempt to buy time.

Her shocked expression changed quickly to one of concern. "Oh my God," she said, and she grabbed his wrist, pulling him to the table he'd sat at last Thanksgiving, "what happened?" She grabbed his chin and turned his face so she could see the cut on his cheek better.

"Nothing, I just … fell."

She pulled back. "You fell?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes."

"And you were knocked unconscious for eleven months?"

"Huh?"

She slapped his arm. "Where have you been? I was worried! I thought you'd died of starvation or exposure or something!"

"Sorry?" he said, not quite sure what response she wanted.

"You should be," she said and imperiously stood and walked behind the counter.

The ladies, who had been watching the exchange with interest, quickly wrapped up their order and the number flashed. He held up his matching 32 and she shot him a glare over the glass partition, very clearly telling him he would be eating what she gave him.

The large man who had been standing behind the counter swept past Bryce with a glare of his own. Bryce knew that glare, he'd seen it on the face of every father he'd ever been unlucky enough to meet.

"It's just a sandwich," he said quickly, keeping his voice low enough that she wouldn't hear him.

"It had better be."

"Leave him alone, Tony," she said and unceremoniously dropped a sandwich on the table in front of him. She had not wrapped it but had at least been kind enough to put a sheet of butcher paper beneath it. He took that as a good sign.

"Thank you," he said and took a bite while she watched. "Good," he said, too confused by her behavior to really taste it.

"Where have you been?" she asked.

A half-truth was always best. "I got a job."

"Really? That's great!"

"Yeah, I have to travel a lot, but it's worth it."

"What is it?"

He paused. What normal job was comparable to elite spy hunting down rogue spies? "Safety inspector."

Her eyes widened slightly and he shook his head.

"Oh no, I'm off duty. And I don't do restaurants anyway," he added.

"Well, that's good to know."

Something about the way she said it made him ask, "Why?"

Her eyes moved quickly over him as if she didn't quite want to look. "The last guy I dated turned out to be working for the FDA. He busted me for smuggling deli meats."

Bryce couldn't help but smile. "So you're a dangerous smuggler?"

"And you're a dangerous burglar," she teased.

"We're quite a pair."

"We are."

"So, I guess that explains why you're not afraid of the homeless guy who broke into your restaurant."

"It does? Because the smuggling I did was not at all scary or dangerous, except for the possible jail time."

He laughed. "Then why weren't you scared of me? And why were you worried?"

"You were a poor, homeless man who just wanted a meal on Thanksgiving! Was I supposed to just kick you out?"

"You should have called the police!" he said, suddenly very angry that she hadn't. "I could have been a knife-wielding maniac!"

She raised an eyebrow and he realized that he was waving his arms about wildly. He lowered them slowly and glared.

"You should have."

"All right," she said, nodding slowly. "Next time a homeless man breaks into the restaurant on Thanksgiving--" at his glare she amended -- "or any other major holiday, I will call the police."

"That's all I ask," he said, taking another bite of his sandwich. "Mmmm," he moaned. "This really is good."

"I know. So, what brought you back here?"

Bryce stopped chewing. "Um…"

"Come on. I'm giving you free food here." She poked his arm persistently and Bryce could feel the ladies' eyes on them.

He sighed and set the sandwich down. There really wasn't anyone in the world who he could vent to. His friends were all involved and everyone else he knew wanted him dead, so he supposed a stranger was a good alternative.

"My ex-girlfriend is in love with my best friend who hates me because I ruined his life in college, then I did it again a few months before you and I met and then I did it again just about an hour ago."

She sat back in her chair. "Wow," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and giving him an appraising once-over. "You're a jerk."

"I really am."

"But I'm still sorry." She smiled comfortingly and reached across the table to pat his hand. He smiled back until he heard the ladies whispering and realized just what this looked like.

"Listen," he said, standing up so fast that he almost overturned the table, "I gotta go. Plane to catch."

She nodded, pursing her lips. "Wait!" she called as he turned to go. She quickly wrapped the remains of his sandwich and pressed it into his hands. "There are lots of lines in airports, you'll probably get hungry."

"You're probably right. Thanks." He paused a moment, the sandwich held between them. Her eyes were brown, not brown with green or brown with gold, just a rich, deep brown. "Thanks," he repeated, tearing himself away before any other pointless thoughts could form in his mind.

* * *

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	4. Chapter 4

AN: Wow, I've been gone for way too long. Sorry. I hope this chapter makes up for it. I've already started the next chapter (which was supposed to be this chapter but I needed some fun in the middle), so hopefully that will come soon. Plus, I have ideas for the chapters after that including (gasp!) Chuck actually showing up. Amazing.

AN2: A special thanks to Mrs. Phineas Bogg for her review and subsequent PM. They made my day and are part of the reason this chapter's getting posted. (Also, sorry for misspelling that name, ffn wouldn't allow it if I didn't add that space after Mrs.)

AN3: (Last one, I promise.) This chapter's a bit ... odd, but I hope you all enjoy it regardless.

Timeframe: Several months after the last chapter

**Something Missing**

Lou couldn't believe her luck. She had taken four days off of work to come to the deli convention in San Diego, only to discover that it was canceled due to toxic mold in the convention hall. When she'd called the restaurant Sal had told her to enjoy herself. The hotel room was paid for and there was no point in her driving all the way back up when they'd already gotten Drew, the slightly inept delivery boy, to cover for her. So, after carefully perusing a guide book from the hotel, what was she doing? Staring forlornly at the convention center, wishing that somehow, miraculously the mold would disappear, the other convention-goers would come back, and she would be able to go inside. Her phone buzzed and she fished it from her pocket. It was a text from Sal, asking if she was having fun yet. She frowned and dropped it into her purse. Of course she wasn't having fun. She wanted to be discussing meats and cheeses with people from all over the world. She looked up again and gasped happily, her melancholy completely forgotten.

"Hey!" she called, waving as she ran across the street just before the light changed. What were the odds of meeting her mysterious sandwich thief today? She frowned slightly. When had she started thinking of him as "mysterious"?

"Hi," he said slowly.

She smiled up at him. "You're the one who found the mold, aren't you?"

"Uh, yeah," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. This made his head tilt up slightly, catching the sunlight on his chin.

"Wow," she said, reaching up involuntarily to touch the discolored skin of his jaw. "What is it with you and face wounds?"

He shrugged, using the motion to turn his face away. She hastily put her hand to her side, embarrassed to have touched him so familiarly.

"People get angry when you shut them down," he said. "I guess you were going to that?"

"Yeah," she said with a nod and self-consciously crossed her arms over her chest.

He waved at a passing hazmat worker. "I guess you'll be heading back to L.A."

"No," she sighed, "they don't need me at the restaurant and the hotel's paid for and … I'm bored."

He laughed. "How can you be bored? There are a million things to do in this city."

She pulled the guide book from her purse and waved it in his face. "I know. I just don't want to do any of them. I want my pastrami and gouda and --"

He snatched the guide book from her and flipped through it. He stopped twice before finally rolling the book up and sticking it in his back pocket.

"Hey!" she cried, grabbing for it. He caught her wrist out of the air and pulled her in step with him.

"Come on," he said with a smile and she felt her stomach leap at the sight, "we're going to find you some fun."

She couldn't help but be dragged along.

* * *

Bryce fought the urge to kick himself as he walked around the back of his car, out of her field of vision. He climbed into the driver's seat, putting the guide carefully out of her reach and smiling teasingly. Teasingly! What was wrong with him? Okay, so she'd been at the center and had seen him. When he'd found out the purpose of the convention he'd entertained the vague thought that she might appear. That she did was just bad luck, not exactly out of the ordinary where Bryce Larkin was concerned, especially where she was involved. But that he'd actually talked to her? Carried on a conversation and forced her to spend the rest of the day with him? He gripped the steering wheel tightly. He was an idiot; a grade A, prime cut idiot. How could he be flirting with her? And by now he had no doubt whatsoever that he was, in fact, flirting. He comforted himself with the fact that he was on the rebound so he was probably making more out of the attractive young woman next to him than he usually would. And at that line of thinking the traitorous voice in the back of his head snickered and reminded him that he had been hoping for her to show up today.

As he cursed himself, he realized that he didn't even know her name.

* * *

It occurred to her suddenly that she had gotten into the car of a sandwich thief whose name she didn't even know. She shifted in her seat. This was, without a doubt, the dumbest thing she had ever done. How could she be so stupid?

She took a deep breath and looked out at the highway, trying to convince herself that she was being paranoid.

"Where are we going?" she asked suddenly.

"It's a surprise," he said and his voice sounded oddly tense.

"That sign said, 'Now Leaving San Diego,'" she pointed out.

"It's a really good surprise," he assured her. "Though, the food won't be nearly as good as yours."

She scoffed, "That's a given," and he laughed. Her worry faded at the sound.

"Are you sure you can't just give me a tiny hint?" she asked.

He smirked. "It'll be … colorful."

"Colorful? What's that supposed to mean?"

"You'll see," was all he said and she settled into her seat with a pout.

Less than an hour later they left the freeway and she spent another fifteen minutes after that craning her neck, trying to see what he could be taking her to.

"Okay," she sighed when the ocean came into view, "I give up."

He laughed. "We're almost there, I promise."

She rolled her eyes at him as the road curved away from the beach. They were surrounded by impressive office buildings, but nothing that seemed terribly exciting. When the curve ended they were facing the end of their road, a vast field, bleached brown by the sun. "Oh yeah," she said, "this is so colorful."

He stopped the car.

"What?" she asked. "Oh, come on, I was just kidding, I --"

"Close your eyes," he said.

"What?" she asked, remembering her earlier fear over not even knowing his name.

"Please? It'll only be for a couple minutes, I promise."

She sighed, meeting his eyes. "Okay," she breathed, praying she wouldn't regret this. She sat back and obediently closed her eyes, fisting her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking. She felt the car make a sharp right, then make several swerves … the roads around here weren't that curvy, she thought. Finally, after a sudden left, he stopped and told her to open her eyes.

She blinked, seeing nothing but an ugly black fence, grass, and trees. "What?" she asked and his hand came up, pointing past her to the right of the car. She turned her head and gasped. The word "welcome" was spelled out before her, each letter at least four feet tall and composed entirely of Lego bricks.

"No," she breathed. "You didn't!"

"If you don't like Legos …"

"Not like Legos?" she demanded. "That's practically un-American!"

He nodded. "I'm glad you agree. So it's okay that I brought you here?"

"Definitely."

He smiled at her and she felt a blush rising. She was glad when he returned his attention to the road, making a quick turn to bring them to the parking entrance.

* * *

Legoland was, by far, one of Bryce's more inspired ideas. Though, he had to admit, watching her coo over the dinosaurs just past the entrance, he'd been wishing he could come here even before running into her. They rode the boat tour of Miniland, the spinning ride that was a complete rip off of Disney's Teacups, every roller coaster there, and he even managed to convince her to let him soak her on one of the water rides.

"Okay," she said abruptly, setting her fork down and looking him in the eye.

He braced himself, setting down his own fork and mentally going through the exits in the sports themed restaurant. He didn't think she was a threat but habit was hard to break.

"I know it's kind of late to be asking this," she said, "but what's your name?"

He blinked once, processing her question, and burst out laughing. "Bruce," he said finally, deciding to use an alias for safety's sake. "Bruce Anderson."

"Lou Palone."

"That explains the name of the restaurant," he muttered.

"Who did you think it was?"

"I didn't really," he said, taking up his fork again.

"Don't," she said suddenly.

"What?"

"Don't eat that cheese. It's not nearly as good as mine and I refuse to let you eat something second grade."

He rolled his eyes but obligingly pushed the cheese to the edge of his plate. "You're a food snob, you know that right?"

She stopped eating and the look on her face reminded him of Casey. He blinked hard, trying to dispel that image. When he finally met her eyes she said, "You remember my sandwiches?"

"I'm trying to enjoy dinner here. How am I supposed to enjoy dinner if I think of your sandwiches?"

She stared, clearly expecting a yes or no answer.

"Yes, I remember your sandwiches," he sighed.

"Well, if I wasn't a food snob you wouldn't have had those sandwiches, so deal with it, mister." She punctuated her statement by poking him in the chest with her fork.

He smiled at the childish gesture.

"But it's okay," she added, spearing a piece of lettuce, "I know you're just coming from a place of insecurity."

"'Insecurity'?" he echoed.

"Because you know my Lego racecar will beat yours."

He scoffed. One of the park's most popular attractions was a room where children build Lego cars and raced them on tracks.

"I'll have you know my Lego skills are legendary."

"Then I suppose it's time to put your bricks where your mouth is, Mr. Anderson."

"Oh, you're going down."

* * *

Bryce did, in fact, go down. He had far too much fun making his car look super cool with wings and accessories, while hers was simple and aerodynamic. The smile on her face was well worth it though. He glanced at the now empty passenger seat where she'd slept for most of the ride back to her hotel. It had been nice to spend a day just being normal. But that was all it was, just one day of nostalgia for his childhood and a life he could never have. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, trying to burn the sea of red brake lights into his brain in place of her smiling face. She was a nice, normal girl who he would only hurt if he got too close. He nodded to himself, vowing to stay far, far away from Lou Palone from now on, both in reality and in his thoughts.

* * *

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	5. Chapter 5

AN: Okay this chapter is for angellwings and Mrs. Phineas Bogg. The latter for kicking me into gear by asking for a new chapter and the former for always being there to give me critical support. Thanks, gals!

Timeframe: Sometime after the last chapter.

**Something Missing**

Bryce was in trouble. He had somehow managed to enrage two crime lords at once, which wouldn't have been so bad if it weren't for the Fulcrum agent he'd been tracking at the time. Now he was running for his life down dark city streets while chasing down the rogue operative. A small part of his mind reminded him that he was only a few blocks from the Buy More. He shook that impulse off quickly. Calling in Chuck would mean Sarah and Casey. Casey he could handle, but Sarah was another matter and she'd probably kill him for putting Chuck in danger.

The agent up ahead ducked into an alley and Bryce followed, hoping that he might be able to shake the two mobs that were following him. If they kept going in this direction they'd reach the more populated section of town soon. If that happened people would be put in danger and the agent would be able to disappear. As the agent raced into the dim rings of the street lights Bryce grabbed a trashcan lid, intent on hurling it at the agent's legs to stop him. He was saved the trouble by a car. The agent was broadsided, and rolled up onto the hood.

"Oh my God!"

Bryce raced to the scene as the driver exited the car.

"Oh my God!" she repeated.

Bryce ignored her and examined the agent.

"Is he dead?" the driver asked.

"No," Bryce said, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

"We have to call 911."

"No!" Bryce snapped, slapping his hand over the woman's cell phone to stop her from dialing. He quickly switched into authoritative mode, trying to come up with some cover that would keep this woman from calling the police. When he met her eyes he took an involuntary step back. The darkness and stark shadows from both the streetlights and her own headlights had kept him from getting a good look at her before. "Lou?" he asked.

"Bruce? What are you --?"

Yells from the alley reminded Bryce of his precarious situation. "Help me get him in the back seat," he ordered, lifting the man by his shoulders.

"I don't think we should move him."

"Listen to me, this is a very bad man. If he dies from these injuries, the world will be a better place, but I can't just let him go. We've got to get him into the car." When she didn't move to help him he sighed. "Lou. I need you to trust me here."

* * *

"I cannot believe I trusted you!" Lou snapped as she ignored yet another stop sign.

"It was for the best," Bryce said, his voice unnervingly calm.

"For the best? He could be bleeding internally! Not to mention I'm a criminal now! I hit a man and ran! I'm one of those terrible people you see on television and want to bring back hanging for!"

"If it makes you feel any better, you were a criminal before. Smuggling … remember?"

She glared at him through the rearview mirror. "You are _so_ not helping. I can't believe this. What was going on back there? How do you know this guy? And will you stop hitting him?"

"He keeps waking up. Do you really want a conscious terrorist in your backseat?"

The car screeched to a halt. "_What?_"

"Okay, maybe I should drive," Bryce said.

Lou threw the car into park and turned around. "What is going on, Bruce?"

"Okay, first of all, my name's not Bruce and second, I need you to take me to your restaurant."

"We are not going anywhere until you tell me exactly what is going on!"

Bryce gritted his teeth. "What is going on is there are a lot of angry people looking to kill me because I have proof that their respective bosses are smuggling weapons into the country. What is going on is this man has killed more people than you've met in your entire life and if I don't get him into government custody, he will kill more people and a few of those will probably be people you _have_ met."

"Who are you?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Then why should I trust you?"

"You've been trusting me blindly for over a year. Why break tradition now?" He gave her a winning smile that, under different circumstances, she was sure would have made her blush.

"I prefer to think of it as a bad habit," she muttered as she turned back around and they sped off.

Twenty minutes later, when they had reached her restaurant and there was a bleeding terrorist on the tiled floor, Lou made sandwiches. It calmed her, she had told him -- whoever he was -- when he'd gone back out to the car to drag the terrorist inside. When he came back and set about tying the man up with duct tape she was pleased to see him eying the knife in her hand warily. At least he didn't think she was a complete push over.

"What are you doing now?" she asked when he pulled his phone from his pocket.

He held up one finger, silencing her. She glared at him, angry at being treated like an inconvenience when he was the one turning her life upside-down.

"Casey? It's your old buddy." There was a pause and he chuckled darkly. "Yeah, listen. I've got a Fulcrum agent knocked out here and I need someone to pick him up quietly. Think you can do that for me? Great. There's this sub shop near the Buy More -- You've heard of it?" He gave Lou an approving nod. "Wow. Well, he's in there, all wrapped up like a present, just the way you like 'em." With that he hung up and came around the counter.

"Hold it right there, buster," she said, grabbing the knife and holding it between them.

"Are these done?" he asked, completely disregarding any threat she might pose. "Because we have to go."

"Why? If your friend's coming --"

"He's not my friend," he said quickly. "And if he finds you here, your life is going to get a lot more interesting. Did you install that security system like I told you to?"

She sighed, setting the knife down and wrapping up the sandwiches. "No."

"Good." He grabbed her wrist, forcing her to awkwardly carry both sandwiches as she was dragged along behind him.

"We can't just leave him," Lou pointed out once they were on the other side of the locked door.

He looked down at her with a sheepish grin. "I'm really sorry about this."

"What?" she asked, suddenly wishing she still had the knife.

He pulled her around to face him while his back was to the door. With a wince he lifted his free arm and slammed his elbow back into the glass, shattering it. She gave a small cry and he pulled her towards her car. He drove them across the street to a secluded corner of the Large Mart parking lot where they were surrounded by the shrubs and trees meant to make the place seem less barren. From there they could see as, minutes later, a single car drove up to her restaurant.

"Your friend?" Lou asked dryly.

"Again, not my friend."

"Then why did he come when you called?"

He sighed and slowly unbuttoned the first few buttons on his shirt. "He shot me, right here."

Lou's eyes widened at the small indentation in the skin above his heart. She realized that she was reaching out as if to touch it and quickly snatched her hand back.

"He'll call in a team to clean the area, Lou's will be back to normal by dawn. I had to break the window, otherwise he'd know I had access to a key." When that didn't elicit a response he asked quietly, "Is one of those for me?"

She held out the salami on rye, refusing to look at him and instead keeping her eyes on the man across the street. He was dragging the terrorist into his own car now and Lou wondered where he would take him. She opened her mouth to ask but a completely different question spilled out. "Are you going to kill me?"

He choked, bits of pepper and cheese falling onto the butcher paper in his lap. "Why would I kill you?"

"Isn't that what you do with people who know too much?"

"You don't know too much," he said with a soft smile.

She glared back, not about to be taken in by flirty tricks. "I know what you look like."

"And that's basically it. Nothing else I've told you can in any way put you in danger, I wasn't specific enough." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "My job is protecting people, Lou, I'm not about to put your life in jeopardy just because you were nice enough to give me a sandwich."

"But you did." Part of her knew she should be yelling, should be angry and violent and majorly pissed off with him right now but as she thought back on their few meetings up until now she was very, very calm. "You're a dangerous person and there are people who want you dead. If they knew I gave you a sandwich…"

"They would kill you," he finished, his voice tight. "I know, which was why I've been very careful to stay away from you." At her raised eyebrow he added, "It hasn't worked out so well. I mean, I didn't have any control over tonight, or San Diego, they just … happened."

She looked away at his mention of San Diego.

"And when I saw you that second time … I just wasn't thinking."

"You'd just ruined your best friend's life, for the second time, I believe."

He smiled at the tease, hopeful that it meant she was on her way to forgiving him. "Yeah," he said. "I'm a jackass."

"You are." The way she said it she could have been agreeing that he was male and Caucasian. "But," she added, "did you have a good reason?"

He sighed heavily. "If I'd done it to anyone else, we'd all probably be dead right now. He's the only one good enough to handle it."

"Is that why your ex is in love with him?"

He winced. "I was hoping you would forget that part."

"So, I'm not going to die?"

"Not if I can help it." He had meant it as a reassurance that his job was protecting the greater good, but it came out sounding much more … personal. "Give me your phone," he said quickly.

"Why?"

"_Now_ you don't trust me?"

She rolled her eyes and handed it over. He quickly input a new contact.

"Okay," he said, handing the phone back, "this isn't me because I travel a lot and phones tend to be the first things taken when I'm captured, but it's a friend of mine. Not the guy who shot me, my best friend. If you're ever in trouble call him, tell him -- tell him Bryce told you to."

"Bryce?" she echoed, trying out the name.

He nodded.

"Is it legit?"

"If I told you that, I'd have to kill you."

She laughed at his tone.

"The entry's under that name. Promise me you won't even look at it until you need it."

She nodded. "I promise. Anywhere I can drop you off so you can save the world?"

"No, I'll walk from here. Spies do need their exercise." He fixed the buttons on his shirt and smiled at her. "Thanks, for everything. I'll try to avoid you better in the future."

"That's okay. It's always interesting with you at least."

"Interesting," he muttered as he opened the door. "Oh!" He paused, one leg dangling outside. "You know you can't tell anyone about any of this, right?"

She slapped his shoulder. "Do I look stupid to you?"

"Not at all."

He smiled and bobbed his head in a quick goodbye before climbing out. He was only ten paces away when he felt her hand on his arm, tugging him back around. She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down, kissing him quickly.

"Goodbye, Bryce," she said softly and rushed back to her car. She drove away, leaving him in the barren parking lot.

* * *

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	6. Chapter 6

**Something Missing**

Food Network had never failed so completely to keep Lou's attention. Usually she would come home, turn on Alton Brown, and spend the night either agreeing or arguing with the television set. But lately she couldn't seem to keep her mind off a certain phone and a certain number and a certain man who had given said number to her. Her gaze kept sliding from the TV to the phone on the coffee table. She could learn to hate that phone. It had been how she ended up with Chuck, the nicest, jerkiest guy she had ever met, and now it was her link to Bryce, the spy.

She let her head fall back over the couch's armrest. How had she fallen in with a spy again? She was normal. She had a respectable sandwich shop. She didn't break the law -- except for the whole smuggling thing but she wasn't doing that anymore so she refused to count it. She blew out an angry puff of air. She really needed to get her mind off of this. The commercials ended and Alton came back with sock puppets. Determined to pay attention, Lou grabbed one of the pillows from the couch and tossed it at the coffee table, sending the phone sliding off and onto the floor. That done, she settled back to critique the making of eggs. Not ten seconds later her phone rang, startling her so badly that she jumped. She lunged across the table and grabbed the phone off the floor.

"Hello?" she gasped.

On the other end she could hear someone fumbling for the phone and shushing someone else.

"Hello?" she repeated.

"_Hello_," came a smooth voice from the other end. "Is this Lou?"

"Yes," she said slowly.

"Owner of Lou's Sandwiches?"

"Yes."

"I need you to listen very carefully, there isn't much time."

Lou's stomach dropped. Could this be Bryce's friend? He hadn't said anything about the friend contacting her but then he hadn't said much at all. What if the friend knew she was in trouble? She cast a worried glance around the brightly lit apartment but found nothing to cause her concern, which only concerned her more.

"I'm listening," she said, shutting off the TV.

"Where are you?"

"My apartment, why?"

"I need you to go to the restaurant."

"Okay." Lou was already halfway to the door.

"Now, this part is very important. I need you to listen carefully. You need to make two salami sandwiches."

Lou paused, her hand on the doorknob. "What?"

"It doesn't matter what else you put on them. We trust your abilities."

"Who is this?" Lou demanded.

In the background she heard more shuffling and the voice snapped, "What is it, Jeff? Oh no!" There was a sharp bang, like the phone had been dropped and then another, more familiar voice, "Hey, guys! Have you seen my cell ph--oh! There it is. Why is it …? Hello?"

Lou closed her eyes and forced herself to say, "Chuck?"

"Lou? What are you -- why are you on my phone?"

Lou felt her face burn and was thankful he couldn't see her. "I think some of your coworkers were calling me. They wanted sandwiches."

Chuck groaned. "Lester! Jeff! I _told_ you guys! Just because I used to date her doesn't mean you can't eat at Lou's!" More quietly he said, "Sorry about that."

"It's okay."

"So, how have you been?"

She sighed. "Chuck, you don't have to do this."

"Do what?"

"Talk to me. It's been over a year and we've both done perfectly well avoiding each other."

"I guess."

"And if Sarah heard you talking to me, I doubt she'd be very happy."

"Yeah, it's a good thing she's not … oh no. I gotta go!"

"What? What happened? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just -- I have to bribe Casey. Gotta go!"

The phone went abruptly dead and Lou shook her head. She was way too paranoid. She would throw herself into cooking dinner and that would mellow her … hopefully. Maybe her friend Kara would want to come over, she was usually up for anything so long as Lou was cooking. Instead of going to her phonebook she went to her call history, since Kara had called her just that afternoon her name should be at the top of the list right under …

"Bryce," Lou breathed. At the top of her call history was his name. Which meant whoever had just called her had used the number Bryce had given her. Which meant …

Lou sat down heavily at her small dining room table.

"Chuck Bartowski's a spy."

* * *

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	7. Chapter 7

AN: Wow, I didn't realize how short this was when it was on Word. But it's a relatively quick update so I hope that makes up for it.

AN2: Thank you to Mrs Phineas Bogg for correcting my atrocious error in this chapter. I don't know how it happened but I'm gonna blame the migraine I had when writing it. Yeah, that sounds good.

**Something Missing**

Greek smugglers were Bryce's least favorite of all smugglers. Not only was Greek, irony of ironies, his worst language but they always found some way to annoy him beyond all reason. This guy hadn't managed that yet but he was sure to find a way soon enough.

The man had been broken out of government custody through a deal his family made with Fulcrum. Bryce had gotten lucky, learned of the break out, and managed to catch the guy before he made it to his safe house. Unfortunately he had accidentally killed the Greek's two Fulcrum escorts and had to make due with learning whatever the Greek knew. The two of them were in an abandoned hunting cottage deep in the Montana woods. Since only one chair had stood the test of time Bryce had tied the Greek to it and then, for good measure, tied another rope from the man's hands to the rafters. If the chair happened to fall apart during his interrogation the rafters should keep him from running any further than the door.

Bryce sat on an overturned bucket and kept himself busy playing with various rusting metal tools he had found in a cupboard, making sure that while the Greek tried to look away, he could still hear the clinking. When he got bored watching the man wince he hooked the leg of the chair with his ankle and pulled the Greek around to face him.

"Hi," he said brightly. "I'm a government operative. And you are?"

The Greek spit in his face.

Bryce wiped the spit away and picked up a screw. "A name would be nice," he said, running his nail through the grooves of the screw to clear out the rust and dirt. "Listen," he sighed, "I'm off the grid. Which means I can basically do whatever I want to you and no one is ever going to question me about it. So I'm gonna need a name. It doesn't even have to be your name, just _a name_." When the Greek continued to stare Bryce shook his head and tossed the screw over his shoulder. He went to the back of the shed and picked up a long knife, holding it up so it would catch the light coming through the door.

The Greek growled, "Chuck Bartowski."

Bryce was thankful he was facing away from the Greek when he said those two words. When he turned he was wearing an expression of faint amusement. "Now, you don't look like a Bartowski to me."

The Greek laughed. "He's one of your agents. Works in LA. Poses as an employee at some inane electronics store." He rolled his eyes. "I plan on killing him first chance I get."

Bryce felt like someone had just squeezed his lungs. He forced himself to remain impassive as he returned to his bucket. "LA, hm?"

The Greek nodded. "It's where I lived until you people caught me." He said "you people" the way a child says "broccoli."

"I prefer northern California," Bryce said, flexing his hand on the knife handle. "Now, let's try a name that I care about."

"I think I'll stick with Bartowski," the Greek said.

Bryce narrowed his eyes. "Why do you hate him so much? He's one agent."

"Why does any man hate another? He is Paris to my Menelaus."

That got Bryce's attention. This guy was definitely not Sarah's type, so who could Chuck have stolen from him? And who was Chuck to steal anyone when he had Sarah?

He forced a laugh. "You're kidding me. A woman? All this over some woman?"

"Not just any woman. She was _mine_." The Greek sighed. "And she made the most delicious sandwiches. There will never be another one like my Lou."

The knife slipped from Bryce's fingers. Luckily, the sound was drowned out by bullets coming through the doorway.

"Fulcrum," Bryce cursed as he fell to the floor. The Greek tried to do the same but could only lean so far before the rope holding him to the ceiling caught him. As heavy footsteps approached the cottage Bryce punched out part of the back wall and crawled into the woods.

"This Stavros may be more trouble than he's worth," he heard one of the Fulcrum agents say. At least now he had a name, a lot of good it did him now.

As he searched for a place to hide until nightfall he mentally went through the different ways of getting from there to LA and tried to quiet the voice that wondered if he was going for Chuck or for Lou.

* * *

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	8. Chapter 8

AN: I am so sorry this has taken so long. My family just moved so that's my only excuse. Also because of the moving, the last episode I saw was _vs. the Predator_, so please don't mention things about Bryce's appearance later in the season. I already know and don't want to be reminded.

**Something Missing**

Lou was very proud of herself as she left work that day. It had been two weeks since her short phone conversation with Chuck and she'd managed to avoid the Buy More just as much as she had before, more in fact. There was only one spot in the restaurant that could see the Buy More and that view was mostly blocked out by trees. And her normal route home was actually cut short by .1 miles if she went around Large Mart and out the back of the shopping center into residential streets until she hit the freeway. Sure, it took her an extra fifteen minutes, but it was worth it if it meant avoiding the temptation to confront her ex.

She had gone over everything she remembered Bryce telling her about his friend a thousand times. She was now fairly certain the "not friend" who had shot Bryce and removed the terrorist from her shop was Casey, Chuck's large, scary coworker/neighbor. And Sarah was Bryce's ex. That was completely unfair. Chuck had left her for Sarah and now Bryce was mooning over her. Okay, Bryce didn't moon, but Lou was allowed to exaggerate. And, of course, that made her wonder what allowed her to exaggerate. She and Bryce weren't … anything … were they? She didn't know and she wasn't sure she wanted to. Her last two relationships had been a smuggler and a spy. Why would she want to get into another relationship like those? Or was she already in one? Or, worse, was she making all this up in her head and Bryce was just some guy she'd made sandwiches for and stupidly kissed in the middle of a deserted parking lot?

Lou pulled into her driveway and sighed, hanging her head. Maybe she should just move. That would solve a lot of problems.

She reached for the ignition just as her passenger door opened. Instinctively, she grabbed the umbrella she kept under the seat for emergencies. Her intruder ignored it.

"Drive," Bryce said.

She gaped at him, trying to think of all the things she'd thought to say to him when next he dropped into her life.

"_Drive_," he insisted.

She gritted her teeth and threw the car into reverse, coming out of the drive so fast she may have given the neighbor's cat a heart attack.

"What is it with you and commandeering my car?" she demanded and the car swung around.

"I'm trying to save your life here," he said. "I don't know why you're so angry."

"Maybe because I don't like having my life turned upside-down every time you blow into town."

She banked a hard left onto the freeway, ignoring the blaring horns in her wake.

"You know," Bryce said, affecting calm, "I didn't tell you to drive like a maniac."

"You said 'drive.' I'm driving."

He waited until she had merged and gotten into the general flow of traffic before saying, "Is this about the kiss?"

She didn't respond, but her hands tightened on the wheel.

"Don't you want to know why I'm even here?" he tried.

She let out an angry puff of air. "To drive me crazy?"

He ignored that. "When we first met you told me that your ex smuggled meat into the country for you."

"So?"

"You didn't tell me he also smuggled other things. Dangerous things."

"You know about Stavros?" she asked, shooting him a look before she exited the freeway.

"We … met."

"How?"

"I caught him breaking out of prison."

"Is he … dead?"

Bryce's jaw tightened at the concern in her voice. "I don't know. But if he isn't, he's coming here."

"Why?"

"Apparently, he wants to kill your ex."

"Funny you should mention him," Lou said as she shut off the engine.

Bryce paled when he realized where they were. Before he could stop her she had climbed out and started marching towards the Buy More. He considered physically stopping her, but knew that would only cause a scene. That left him only one option: follow and pray. He tugged sunglasses and a ball cap out of his pocket and put them on before he stepped into the range of the Buy More's security cameras.

Lou ignored the shocked glances she got from Buy More employees. Most of them had been around when she dated Chuck and recognized her.

"Hey," someone … Morgan, she realized, said, stepping into her path. "Lou, right? What brings you to the Buy More? You know, we're having a really great deal on --"

"I need to see Chuck," she said and he quailed at her tone.

"Well, he's not --"

Unfortunately, Chuck was sitting behind the Nerd Herd desk, oblivious to the drama playing out just yards away. Lou pushed past Morgan and marched up to the desk.

"Chuck!" she snapped more loudly than she'd meant to.

Damn him, Chuck almost fell out of his chair when he leapt up and it made her heart melt. The jerk was genuinely endearing. But she didn't have time for endearing, Chuck was in danger and, more importantly, her life was way too complicated since she'd met him.

"I believe," she said, trying to keep her voice level, "you know one of my customers."

She half turned to see Bryce pretending to examine one of the displays. She didn't miss his wince or Chuck's shocked expression.

"Bryce?" Chuck gaped.

"Uh, Chuck?" Casey said, grabbing Bryce's elbow in what appeared to be a death grip. "You're needed in the cage. And so is this … customer." He half-carried, half-dragged Bryce closer to the desk.

"Um, Lou … I have to --"

Bryce cut him off. "She knows."

"What?" Casey and Chuck asked.

"She knows everything," Bryce said with a shrug. "Well, not _everything_," he added, tapping his temple in a way Lou didn't understand, "but enough. And she's why I'm here anyway."

"_She is?_" Chuck demanded.

"She _is_?" Casey asked, looking her over.

"Do you even know who she is?" Chuck hissed.

Casey nodded, a small smirk on his face. "Oh yeah, I remember. You had me pick up that dying terrorist at her restaurant. What is she, your new girlfriend, Larkin?"

"_What?_" Chuck cried.

"No," Bryce said quickly.

"What?" Lou demanded. "We've been on at least three dates." She glared at him and counted off with her fingers. "Legoland? Date! Eating sandwiches in the Buy More parking lot? Date! Bonding over sandwiches in the restaurant? Date! And it's four if you count Thanksgiving."

"You count Thanksgiving?" he asked.

"Chuck?" All four of them turned to see Sarah, standing next to a panting Morgan.

"I got her as fast as I could, man," Morgan said. "I'm sorry, Lou. I love your sandwiches but I can't let you destroy Chuck's relationship with Sarah ... again," he added with a shrug.

"Lou?" Sarah asked, clearly shocked.

"Great," Bryce muttered, pulling his hat down in a futile attempt to hide.

"This just keeps getting better and better," Casey said cryptically as he pulled Bryce into Sarah's line of sight.

"Oh my," Sarah breathed. "Maybe we should go outside."

"No," Bryce said quickly. "We can't."

"Home theater," Casey said and led the way. He shoved Bryce inside first before holding the door open for the others. When Morgan tried to follow Sarah, Casey grabbed him by the head and pushed him into the Guitar Hero display. "Not you."

"Would someone please explain this to me?" Chuck asked as the door closed.

"Well," Casey said, taking a defensive position before the door, "it looks like your best friend turned nemesis is dating your former girlfriend, who you left for his ex-girlfriend."

"Thanks for the summation, Casey," Chuck said sarcastically. "Now would someone who doesn't enjoy seeing my pain please explain?"

Bryce looked at Lou fearfully. She had taken a seat on the edge of the couch as far away from Chuck as possible, which Sarah and Bryce stood on opposite sides of the TV.

"See," Lou said with a smile, pointing to Sarah, "that's why I was mad."

Bryce nodded. "I should have seen that coming."

"How did you two even meet?" Chuck asked.

"And how much does she know?" Sarah demanded, her voice steely.

"He broke into my shop," Lou said.

"Was this before you had me pick up that terrorist?" Casey asked casually.

"It was right after I … came back to life," Bryce said.

Lou's head slowly turned to regard Bryce. "What?" she asked, far too calmly.

"I told you he shot me."

"You didn't tell me it killed you!"

Casey chuckled.

"Oh, what's so funny?" Chuck asked.

"I am just so glad I'm not in a relationship."

Sarah shot him a glare before turning back to Bryce. "You still haven't answered the most important question."

Bryce rolled his eyes. "She knows I'm an elite spy and that Chuck is under twenty-four hour protection because he's my closest friend."

Sarah concealed her sigh of relief. "Well, as long as it couldn't be helped," she muttered.

Chuck slowly raised his hand. "Could someone please answer my question now? I mean," he added at everyone's questioning looks, "how does sandwich maker meet elite spy?"

"I was hungry," Bryce said with a shrug.

"Being dead'll do that to you," Lou muttered.

"Wait," Sarah said, turning to Casey, "what was that about the terrorist Casey picked up?"

Casey purposefully kept from looking at her. "I didn't think you wanted to know about Bryce being in town. Especially since he was at Lou's."

Chuck balked. "He was at Lou's and you didn't tell me?"

"Why would you care?" Sarah asked.

"You know, I think the important thing here, is that Casey lied to both of us."

Casey quickly said, "He called Lou two weeks ago and didn't tell you about it."

"What?" Sarah asked.

"Why would you care?" Chuck asked, mimicking Sarah's voice.

"Because … she could be a danger to you."

While their fight continued Lou muttered, "I can't believe you died."

"When was I supposed to tell you that?" Bryce asked quietly so that the others wouldn't hear.

"Right after 'he shot me' would have been good."

"You were still dealing with the terrorist-spy-thing, I didn't want to scare you."

She gave him a look that clearly said that was the wrong answer.

"Oh come on!" Chuck yelled. "You're totally still in love with Bryce! Back me up here." Chuck turned to Bryce for support.

Bryce stepped forward. "Don't bring me into this. I've been deep under cover for months!"

"Oh please," Chuck said, "you're Bryce Larkin. You could be magically transported to the Star Wars universe and still manage to ruin my life."

Bryce rolled his eyes. "'Galaxy far, far away,' dude. Same universe, even if it is fictional."

Casey snickered in the background.

"Don't you dare!" Sarah snapped, marching up to him. "You should have told me Chuck was in contact with Lou. I'm your partner."

"Now you listen here --" Casey started angrily.

"Where's Lou?" Chuck asked.

"What?" Sarah asked.

"Shit!" Bryce hissed before rushing out the unattended side door.

Morgan, Lester, and Jeff were standing beside the Nerd Herd desk, whispering among themselves.

"Where did she go?" Bryce demanded, running up to them.

"Whoa!" Lester said. "Slow your roll there, shades. Who are you talking about? Maybe we've seen her, maybe we haven't."

Bryce lifted him up by his collar. "Where. Is. Lou?"

Behind him, Casey nodded approvingly. Sarah and Chuck had remained in the home theater room to argue and he had been more than happy for a chance at escape.

"If you're looking for sandwich girl," Anna said stepping protectively between Bryce and Morgan, "she left with some jerk a few minutes ago."

"What jerk?" Casey asked.

"Was he Greek?" Bryce asked.

"Yeah, he was. How did you --?"

Bryce was already racing out of the store, Casey only steps behind.

"Stavros," Casey said as they scanned the parking lot for Lou's car, "Stavros is back? That putz?"

Bryce nodded, giving up the search. "I caught him breaking out of prison a few days ago. All he gave me was one name: Chuck Bartowski. Apparently he's really angry about losing Lou."

Casey let out a laugh. "Does he know about you?"

"And Lou? I didn't even know about me and Lou until fifteen minutes ago." He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. "Luckily, I left a tracker on Lou's car."

"Well, at least you're not completely incompetent."

"Incompetent? You hate me because I'm better than you."

"That has yet to be proven. Come on, we'll take my car." He ran around the back of the building. "And anyway, you let the girl know you were a spy. If that's not incompetent…."

"What was I supposed to tell her? She hit the terrorist I was chasing."

Casey stopped. "She _hit_ the _terrorist_?"

"With her car."

"Still," Casey said appreciatively.

"Wait," Bryce said, stopping him from going any further. "Why are you helping me?"

"I like sandwiches," Casey said. "And I hate Stavros."

"Good enough. Let's go before he thinks to ditch the car."


	9. Chapter 9

_AN: Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry! Seriously, I feel horrible that this took so long. I hope you don't all hate me._

_AN2: Part of this story (Lou's citing of California law) is me getting back at "Chuck vs. the Marlin" for being inaccurate. Granted, I don't know what the law is now, but I did grow up in a restaurant in California and I highly doubt they would have changed the law to make things so obviously less safe._

_AN3: (Yeah, it's the last chapter, I get to have lots of notes.) I still haven't seen the end of the season. I know, what am I doing with my unemployment? Obviously not watching enough Chuck. Regardless, I'm only to "vs. the Dream Job" but I still know how it all ends (at least for our boy). So please, no comments on the end of season two when you review._

**Something Missing**

Lou wasn't sure who she was more angry at: Bryce, Chuck, Stavros, or herself. Currently though, Stavros was winning.

"I do not appreciate being tied up in my own car," she muttered. Stavros had grabbed her in the Buy More and practically dragged her to her car, where he proceeded to tie her up with the only thing available: jump cables. If they had still been dating, he would be totally dumped for this.

"It won't be for long," Stavros said, clutching the wheel and glancing in the mirrors. "I still have some friends in the city and when your little boyfriend comes to save you --"

"Chuck and I broke up before you even got thrown in prison."

"Really?" His grip on the wheel slackened and his expression grew contemplative. "Huh, that changes things I suppose."

"So, you're not going to kill Chuck?"

"Of course I'm going to kill Chuck. There was more to me hating him than you." His eyes widened and he half-turned, patting her shoulder comfortingly while keeping one eye on the road. "But you were the biggest part, I assure you."

"I'm honored," she said, rolling her eyes. She wasn't particularly worried, which seemed odd, but her life had become odd so she embraced it. The last time she'd seen Bryce he'd been hunting down a terrorist all on his own. If she hadn't come along he probably would have taken the guy down all by himself. He probably would have killed him.

"Here we are!" Stavros said happily, pulling over. They had reached a very nice hotel, the kind Lou wouldn't even dare set foot in for fear of being charged a thousand dollars to have the doormat cleaned of her middle class dirt. Stavros got out first, then came around the side and untangled her from the cables.

"No running," he ordered, and took her arm. "I'm sure my friends will be happy to harbor us for a while," he said as he led her into the lobby.

She suppressed her shudder and steeled herself. Between Bryce and Chuck's … friends she would be fine, she was sure of it.

* * *

"She had better be fine," Bryce growled.

"Jeez," Casey said, cutting off a little old lady as he checked the location of Lou's car, "you and Chuck are just pathetic."

"Shut up, Casey," Bryce muttered.

"I mean, you both keep picking these women," Casey continued as if Bryce hadn't spoken. "They're interesting and attractive, I'll give you that, but in the end they're just trouble."

Bryce rolled his eyes and sagged in his seat. Maybe he should have done this alone.

"Sarah gets you and Chuck all confused because she's confused about which one of you she likes more -- and that, frankly, is the lamest contest in the history of the world -- and now Lou is getting us all in trouble because you couldn't keep your stupid secret."

"Hey! This was totally not my fault! Even if I'd never met Lou, she still would have been driving down that road at that moment and have hit that terrorist. How was I supposed to explain that? And anyway, it's not like you're impervious to women. Oh yeah," he added when he saw Casey's shocked expression, "I know all about your little Russian friend."

Casey's jaw clenched and for a moment Bryce wondered if he was going to have to fight him inside a moving vehicle.

Finally Casey ground out, "Let's just find your stupid girlfriend so I can kill Stavros."

"Who says you get to kill Stavros?"

The car jerked to a stop and Bryce grabbed the dashboard to keep his balance. "Oh, come on," he said, "we don't have time to fight over who gets to kill him."

"Of course not," Casey said, "but they stopped here." He waved to where Lou's car was sitting beside the curb.

"Stavros must have friends here," Bryce said, looking up at the hotel.

Casey nodded. "We'll have to figure out which floor they're on. I say we go in as jani--"

"Look!" Bryce hissed, ducking down in his seat and pointing to the hotel's doors. Stavros was practically running from the building and pulling Lou along with him.

Casey chuckled. "Looks like his friends weren't so happy to see him."

"We still can't attack him here," Bryce said, watching as Stavros started the car and began pulling into traffic. "They may not be willing to harbor a fugitive and his hostage, but we can't be sure they won't try to help him."

"Or I could just broadside the car."

Bryce blinked. "You know that would probably kill Lou, right?"

Casey shrugged. "Fine, we'll save the damsel in distress."

* * *

Lou rolled her eyes as they pulled into the restaurant parking lot. "Seriously?" she asked. "You're going to hideout _here_?"

Stavros glared at her. "Yes, now come on."

She glanced at the Buy More as he pulled her towards the restaurant. They'd spent two hours driving around, visiting Stavros' old "friends," looking for a place to hideout before he brought her back here. The parking lots were dark now and the only business that was still getting customers was the all night pizza place at the other end of the shopping center.

Stavros had already taken her purse and was digging around for her keys. She sighed and grabbed it away from him, taking her keys out and unlocking the door herself. She breezed inside, immediately heading towards the freezer.

"What are you doing?" he asked, glancing out the windows for any sign that they'd been seen.

"Cooking!" she cried, slamming a ham down on the counter and cutting into it fiercely. "I _cook_ when I'm _stressed_!"

Stavros watched her warily as she began making sandwiches. She could tell that he was wondering if he would be getting a sandwich but she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of telling him.

She wasn't so much angry at him anymore. Sure, he had kidnapped her and planned to murder Chuck, but he wasn't the worst person in her life right now. Bryce still hadn't saved her. She'd been kidnapped over two hours ago and he hadn't even made an attempt to rescue her! He was definitely going to be in trouble when he finally found her.

She looked down at the sandwiches she'd made with a frown. She forgot the mayonnaise in the freezer and it just added to her anger with Bryce. She stomped to the back, her fists clenched at her sides. While she was cursing Bryce's name she heard the first shot ring out. She ducked instinctively and looked towards the door.

"Sorry," Stavros muttered as he closed her in.

"What!" she shrieked. "Stavros! You ass!" she yelled as she pounded on the door. She couldn't hear anything through the heavy metal but assumed Bryce was fighting Stavros. He was putting his life in danger to save her and she was mad at him, which just made her feel horrible. She sat on the stool they kept in the freezer so she could reach the top shelves, and put her chin in her hands. Now she was just mad at herself again.

Just when she was starting to get really cold the door opened. Stavros pushed a very unhappy Bryce inside with the barrel of his gun. He pulled a pair of handcuffs out of Bryce's pocket and tossed them to Lou.

"Take off your jacket," he ordered Bryce.

Bryce rolled his eyes and handed the jacket to Lou, who took it gratefully.

"Cuff him to the shelves," Stavros said, "I don't want him attacking you while I'm gone."

"You're leaving me in here?" Lou demanded.

"I have to catch his partner and I don't want you to be in danger."

Lou rolled her eyes and cuffed Bryce to the nearest shelf.

When the door closed Bryce groaned. "Great, now Casey'll get to kill him."

"That's what you're worried about?" Lou asked, rubbing her arms.

Bryce sighed and his breath came out in a visible puff. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Fine," Lou muttered. "But where have you been?" she asked, slapping his shoulder angrily.

"Following you! We didn't want to attack him somewhere where you might get hurt."

"And this was the first place we came where you thought you could handle the situation?"

"Yes!" he bellowed. "That crack den where you almost got shot in a drive-by didn't exactly seem like the safest place! And anyway," he added more quietly, "if you'd ever stopped anywhere long enough we would have gone in. We _are_ elite spies."

Lou smiled. "Stavros doesn't seem to have as many friends left as he thought."

"No," Bryce agreed, smiling slightly. A moment later his gaze slid to the door and his frown returned.

"You really want to kill him, don't you?" Lou asked.

Bryce looked at her for a moment before nodding. "Yeah," he admitted.

She rolled her eyes as she headed to the back corner. "I don't know why I'm not more scared by that," she said and reached behind the metal shelves.

"What are you doing?" Bryce asked.

She smiled back at him. "Saving you," she said, teasing. She stood up, hefting a large axe over her shoulder.

"Whoa," Bryce breathed. "What exactly is that used for in a sandwich shop?"

She frowned at him. "California law requires all walk-in freezers to have an axe, just in case you get locked in. Now hold still." With that she brought the axe down on the handcuffs, severing the chain.

Bryce leapt back the second he was free and Lou calmly walked to the door. She shrugged off his jacket and tossed it back to him.

"Here," she said, "I don't think I'll need it."

Before Bryce could question her she had swung the axe back and began cutting through the door.

"By the way," she added between cuts, "you so owe me for this one."

Rather than answer, Bryce took a seat on the stool and sat back to enjoy the view.

* * *

"Where would they go?" Lou asked as they left the sandwich shop.

Bryce could tell she was trying very hard to ignore the damage to her restaurant and decided not to question her decision to keep carrying the axe. He checked a gun he'd found in the rubble of the shop and scanned the area deftly.

"There!" he called, pointing to the Buy More. The lights were on, sending an eerie glow into the parking lot.

Lou rolled her eyes. "Why do these battles always take place in centers of capitalism?" she asked, following him across the street.

"Terrorists hate capitalism?" Bryce said with a shrug, though he really thought it had something to do with this being Chuck's town. None of his other missions ever went this crazy. "Are you sure you want to come?" he asked. "It's pretty dangerous."

"You think _you_ want to kill Stavros?" she asked, coming to walk beside him. "He made me destroy my own freezer. If that doesn't earn him an axe in the family jewels I don't know what does."

Bryce balked, and paused for a moment as that visual formed in his brain. Not that Stavros didn't deserve it but … He shuddered and hurried to catch up with her. It seemed she was bent on heading straight into the store, not that he could blame her. When they neared the doors he pushed her to the side and carefully activated the automatic center. When he didn't hear any shooting he made his way inside, keeping low to the ground and holding his gun at the ready as he went. He could hear Lou close behind him and wished he'd made her stay behind. As they waddled through the electronic censors he heard a loud bang and turned sharply.

Lou was wincing and holding her axe away from the machine. "Sorry," she mouthed.

"Who's there?" Stavros asked and Bryce saw him pop up from behind the Nerd Herd desk.

"Gotcha," Casey said from somewhere among the shelves and a shot rang out.

Lou gave a small cry as Stavros fell. Casey and Bryce both stood and looked at the desk.

"Who got him?" Casey asked.

"I think we both did," Bryce said.

The two exchanged a look of revulsion at the thought of sharing credit.

"Is that an axe?" Casey asked, looking over Bryce's shoulder.

Lou stood on shaky feet and nodded. Casey gave her a look of newfound respect as Bryce put a tentative arm around her shoulders.

"Can you handle this?" Bryce asked.

"Yeah," Casey said, "I'll have a crew come in and clean up here and in the restaurant."

"Thanks," Bryce said and steered Lou out the doors.

He didn't trust her to drive and apparently she didn't either, since she gave him her keys immediately after retrieving her purse.

He didn't trust himself to speak until they were almost to her house. "So," he said, "big night, huh?"

He heard her sigh and winced internally. He was already wondering where he would get his sandwiches in the future.

"If only I still kept a diary," she said hollowly. "I think this day might actually beat when Steve McAdams talked to me in ninth grade."

"Steve McAdams?" Bryce asked carefully. "Sounds dreamy."

"Oh, he was. Dreamiest guy in school." Her hand touched his shoulder and it took all his training not to jump. "Thank you."

He let out a laugh as he pulled onto her street. "For what? Putting your life in danger in the first place?"

"Stavros would have come back without you," she said. "And it wouldn't matter either way. You saved me. That earns you major bonus points in my book."

"Enough that you don't hate me?" he asked as he pulled into her driveway.

"Enough that you get free sandwiches for life."

"Really? I still get sandwiches?"

"Just so long as you try to leave the terrorists and smugglers at home."

"Hey, the smugglers are your fault."

She bit back a laugh. "Seriously, I want you to come back. Even if it means you have to bring the terrorists with you."

He smiled. "You may live to regret that."

She met his smile with one of her own. "I certainly hope I do."

* * *

_AN: That's it! I hope you all enjoyed this little adventure in made-up-ship land. Thanks for sticking with me through all this and, as always, I love a good review._


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